


In the Dark

by schizoauthoress



Category: The Core (2003)
Genre: M/M, lovers to enemies to ???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23595862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schizoauthoress/pseuds/schizoauthoress
Summary: Doctors Zimsky and Brazzleton, forced back into proximity with each other. How they (don't) cope.Note: These bits were extracted from a failed story I've been trying to get out since 2012 at least. So it skips around a bit, and it ends where it ends, and this is all that really worked of it.
Relationships: Ed "Braz" Brazzleton/Conrad Zimsky
Kudos: 7





	In the Dark

"Hello, Braz." Dr. Conrad Zimsky, cavalier attitude firmly in place as always, greeted his former partner with a smile. His eyes glittered behind the smoked lenses of his glasses, and he nonchalantly lifted his lighter to the end of the cigarette, as though it were a foregone conclusion that he was welcome here. (Or perhaps he was simply confident that the show of government support and military power would keep Dr. Brazzleton in line.)

At once furious with and absurdly comforted by Zimsky's audaciousness, Dr. Edward Brazzleton huffed out short, cynical laugh and inquired, "Why the hell aren't you dead yet?"

Zimsky finished lighting his cigarette and looked up at Braz again, eyebrows raised expectantly. He said nothing more, and Braz resigned himself to the fact of his presence.

"All right," he said, glancing at Zimsky's companions so he wouldn't have to look at Zimsky himself, "this way."

****

"Before we actually begin," Braz said, "I would like to speak to Dr. Zimsky."

Josh and Serge exchanged a confused look, and the Frenchman shrugged. Josh nodded, and said, "All right, fine."

Zimsky scowled, an expression that deepened in displeasure when Braz opened the door to his private office and stood waiting for Zimsky to enter first. With an angry huff, Zimsky stalked inside the cluttered space. When Braz shut the door, he whirled on him in a fury.

"You've already agreed to build the ship for us!" Zimsky declared. He jabbed one hand forward to point accusingly at Braz. "You can't back out of it now, just because you'll be working with me. You...you don't do that."

Braz said, calm and quiet, "Unlike you."

Zimsky frowned. No matter what else happened, Braz seemed dead-set on always bringing up that mistake, that sin, of his. "What, do you want me to say that I'm sorry again?"

"I already know your reasons ..." Braz stepped forward, and Zimsky took a step back. Braz smiled slightly. "... and your excuses ... well enough."

"Then what the hell is this?"

Braz didn't quite answer with words at first, reaching out to touch Zimsky's cheek gently, then stroking down to the side of his neck. Zimsky drew in a sharp little breath at the contact. Braz murmured, "I've missed you. Even when I was so angry I couldn't see straight, I missed being with you."

Zimsky grabbed Braz's hand, pulling it away so that Braz was no longer touching his neck. "I don't care," he said harshly. "I don't care."

"I think you do," Braz replied. "And I think that pisses you off."

He smiled at Zimsky one more time, shook his hand free of the other man's grasp, and walked away. As he shut the door behind him and moved back into the hangar proper, he heard Zimsky start up a stream of indistinct invective.

Braz felt a little better, knowing that he could still get under Zimsky's skin.

****

'It was easier to hate him,' Dr. Edward Brazzleton realized a month into the project, 'when I didn't have to see him.'

He did not like this thought.

He had spent the last twenty years knowing that he'd never trust another person the way that he had trusted Conrad Zimsky, but trying not to let the pain harden his heart. Instead, he directed all the anger -- richly deserved -- toward Zimsky himself, and immersed himself in his work. His assistants learned quickly not to discuss his one-time partnership anywhere that Braz could hear them, for it would bring a dark mood down on Braz and by extension the whole compound. He was sure that some of them had been nervous when they learned that Dr. Zimsky would be part of the extended team on Project Virgil.

Braz had resented Zimsky's ill-gained riches only rarely, when his own experiments had limped along without proper funding as Zimsky came into windfall after windfall, but he couldn't resist that jab about the patents that should have been half his. He'd been trying to get a reaction out of Zimsky -- perhaps some guilt, a glimmer of regret -- but the man had only sounded annoyed, as if Braz had been awfully crass in bringing up the subject of money. That reaction, Braz had concluded, was common to rich people.

No, what had really hurt was the betrayal. They'd had something special, or so Braz had believed. He had loved Conrad Zimsky when they were younger, loved him deeply and completely -- and Conrad had seemed so sincere back then, it was a foregone conclusion that the feeling was mutual. The hate Braz felt after being proved wrong was just as deep as the love had been, and even fiercer.

'Conrad Zimsky only loves himself. He only cares about himself. He proved that a long time ago...' Braz told himself, angry that he was even thinking about not hating Zimsky. 'I should hate him. He stole my work; he as good as spat on everything we had together. He made himself rich off my work and gave me nothing, much less my fair share!'

So why had Braz agreed so readily to include Zimsky in any capacity on this culmination of his life's work? He told himself it was only because they had to use the best and brightest to save the world...

****

In the dark, they could pretend.

Edward was asleep on his belly, arms up on the pillow and his face tucked into the crook of one elbow. Conrad remembered that he used to do that whenever he had to go to bed alone, when Conrad had been busy with some project or experiment for this degree or that doctorate. He wondered how many times Edward had done this since he'd... left. He wondered if there had been anyone else for Edward, even as he admitted that he had no right to know. Just like he really had no right to be in Edward's room now.

On the surface, there certainly had been 'someone else' for Conrad. Several times over. But they -- men and women both -- hadn't meant anything. They hadn't been anything but a bit of distraction, or a stress relief, really (and they hadn't had any illusions of being more than that, he'd made sure). Conrad hadn't let anyone else in, not nearly as much as he had with Edward.

In the dark, Conrad reached out and rested a hand on Edward's shoulder. As he had so many times, years ago, he whispered softly, "Braz."

And Edward's eyes opened. He looked at Conrad for a moment, and then shifted, rolling over onto his side and making room on the bed -- as he had so many times, years ago. Conrad drew in a soft breath.

"Come to bed," Edward said quietly.

Conrad couldn't resist the invitation and curled up to him, rested his head on Edward's broad chest. And in the dark, Edward could pretend that the last twenty years hadn't happened. That they were still young men, that they were still lovers. In the dark, they could pretend that their mistakes were still unmade, far in the future.

The end of the world was a little more than six months away, based on Joshua's calculations. But they could die in two weeks trying to save her, and both of them knew it.

*-*-*-*-*


End file.
